Goodbye Stranger
by LittleBarkMachine
Summary: Dorian and Hisoka, two roommates coexisting under their mutual suffering of college, suddenly have to house a handful of very hostile guests that seem to hail from another world completely, which introduces new and challenging stressors to their lives. Resorting to old, self-destructive habits to cope, Dorian doesn't seem like they'll make it. And Hisoka will be forced to watch.
1. Prologue

_Before the I start the story, I should give some context._

 _Dorian is agender and uses they/them pronouns. They've had a pretty rough history, and they're currently enrolled in college for a drama major.  
Hisoka, Dorian's Japanese-american roommate. He's a dfab transman and uses he/him pronouns.  
I live in St. Louis, and have all my life. Therefore, I found it natural to just base this in the same location._

 _Now good luck, and have fun. -The Puppy_

* * *

Once more, the day passed by in an unceremonious blur. Dorian would be lying if they said that they approached each day with enthusiasm. Sure, things were finally beginning to look up now that they were close to finishing up their schooling, curbed most of their vices, and at _last_ seemed to have found a prescription that worked. They also had a simply outstanding roommate that treated them far better than Dorian could _ever_ hope to deserve.

And yet each day they awoke, the first thought that flew through their mind was usually a slurred, "what the fuck."

Each day, after waking up and (somehow) mustering up the motivation to crawl out of the safety of their warm blankets, Dorian prepared for their day with their brain mostly on autopilot. (sometimes, they'd go about their routine - wake up, eat, groom, and drive to wherever needed - without recalling exactly how they got from point A to point B, and although common among anyone with a repetitive schedule, by _god_ , not remembering _scared_ them)

Even though Dorian preferred a busy schedule to keep their mind from straying, skittering to and fro from job to working out to school to home to club and association meetings only made it all the more easier to go about the day in a blurred, easily-forgotten haze.

And it wasn't quite that they were seeking a break in the monotony? No. No, that wasn't it. Dorian's life was far from monotonous, really. Perhaps it was just their terrible memory and forgetful nature being a constant pain in the ass.

Either way, it was time to stop daydreaming. Dorian was nearing their apartment room, and there was something that they needed to remember to tell Hisoka. Racking their brain for exactly what that is, Dorian is barely cognizant when they begin unlocking their door.

 _What were they forgetting?_ They unlock the door. _Wasn't there something to celebrate?_ They turn the doorknob. _Hisoka bought wine for them_. They open the door. _Hisoka never let Dorian touch alcohol anymore so it had to be importa-_

It takes one… two… and three seconds for Dorian to take notice of the 8 pairs of eyes peering out of the darkness of their parlor room.

In a swift movement, Dorian turns on their heel and slams the door behind themself, face twisted in surprise. After a moment of recovery, they slowly, hesitantly reopen the door and scan over the room's invaders.

Palms sweating, Dorian wets their mouth and chooses their next words very carefully:

"...Did you do something to Hisoka?"


	2. Want a Light?

_**Edit (24.2.16):** I changed some dialogue, added some stuff in, took some stuff out. Mostly to make the interactions between Hiso, Dori, Dei, and Tobi less jarringly positive_

 _ **A/N:** Shout-out to my great pal Larfels for editing this chapter. Couldn't have done it without him._

 _-The Puppy_

* * *

"Your friend is safe." A man with a commanding aura and striking eyes states in a tone that alludes the same amount of consideration. "He's currently in his room."

Cautious, Dorian slowly shuts the door behind themself, the collision and sound of a clicking lock filling the pregnant silence. Just as Dorian studies all the eight diverse, abnormal individuals in front of them, they become very aware of the sixteen (fifteen?) eyes appraising them.

Just then, like a stone hitting the surface of a stagnant pond, the sound of Hisoka emerging from his room breaks the building tension.

"Dorian…?" His light, melodic voice calls in trepidation, and Dorian doesn't believe they've ever felt this relieved in their life. "I-uh…" He struggles for wording. "A lot's happened."

Resisting the temptation to bound across the room and whisk their dear friend off to higher ground, Dorian awkwardly replies, "I… can see that."

The roommates both feel the steely gaze of who Dorian presumed was the one in charge of the estranged group staring at them, observing. The man's posture was erect and open, authoritative and aloof. His legs were crossed with his hands resting on his knees, and the way he looked into Dorian's eyes assured that he needn't rise from his seat to exert power and demand respect.

"Hisoka." He calls, demanding the boy's attention. Dorian notes how tired his voice sounds. "I believe it would be better for you to explain the situation to your… friend."

The man waves a dismissive hand, and despite the countless performances under Dorian's belt, they struggle not to waver while walking to Hisoka's room. Once away from the prying eyes, Dorian's countenance falters, and they immediately pull Hisoka into a protective embrace. Just as shaken-up, Hisoka clings back to Dorian, nuzzling his face into their chest.

Pulling back, and placing Hisoka's head in their hands, Dorian asks with concern lacing their voice, "What the hell happened?"

Biting his lip, Hisoka rehearses in his mind exactly how to break the monumental news to his friend. "Th… These people. They just sort of showed up. And I don't… I don't think they're from here." Hisoka stammers, all the pent-up emotions of his hectic evening creeping into his voice. "Like, at all."

Hisoka starts to look past Dorian, taking their hands in his.

"With how they had talked," he continues, grip tightening, "It was as if they were from a completely different world. They certainly look like it. The leader, the one you talked to… 'asked' me if they could take refuge here."

"Something tells me we don't have a choice." Dorian interjects, mind starting to race over all of the accommodations that would have to be made.

"We really don't. Dorian… they don't have IDs. They don't know what cars are. A-and-" It was obvious that Hisoka was getting worked up- "they call themselves the Akatsuki. That means 'red dawn,' b-but they're not Japanese. They're not anything."

The implications are enough to make Dorian's heart pound. But their possessiveness and concern for Hisoka's well being help to keep their thoughts leveled.

"I'm sure they're just as shocked and confused as we are, at least." They murmur. "Well, I don't see a point on dwelling what we can't explain for now. Have you worked out sleeping arrangements for the night? We're also going to eventually have to find a way to hide 8 other 'guests' in our stuffy apartment without attracting attention to neighbors or our landlord… but that can wait for now."

"We sort of have sleeping plans." Hisoka responds. "I haven't really talked them over with it yet, but I know we have an air mattress stored somewhere, two couches, a recliner, and a lot of blankets. I sorta wanted to wait until you got home to say anything, though…"

"Alright." Dorian grumbles, swiping a hand through their tangled hair and pushing away their itch for - for something. They look into Hisoka's eyes for a moment, wide and grey and painfully expressive. "Alright, ok. Let's go out and set shit up, I guess."

On the two's way out, Hisoka takes note of how Dorian stands taller and relaxes their posture, silently envious of how in-control they seemed. (However, closer inspection shows how their fingers play with one of their belt loops. How their smile show significantly less teeth - Dorian was always uncharacteristically self-conscious of their crookedness.)

Once they step into the parlor-turned arena, Dorian waves and awkwardly begins, "So… I'm Dorian."

After a moment of empty silence and shadowed, impassive faces, a man with a bored expression and hair as silver as a knife bluntly states, "We know."

A beautiful (beautiful, Dorian notes) woman sitting beside the leader turns and glares disapprovingly at him, with disdain. He just scoffs and rolls his eyes, muttering some curses under his breath.

"Woah there, ok." Dorian huffs, raising their arms defensively. "I know you all probably know me, but I don't know any of you. And I think at least being on a first-name basis would make this whole process much easier."

Dorian can easily tell that none of them are very pleased with how flippant they sound, but they know the gravity of first impressions, and they didn't want theirs to be one of placidity or submission. Another moment of heavy silence greets them before a younger man speaks up, although his dark eyes are incredibly tired and aged.

"I'm Uchiha Itachi." He states. The room is filled with shifting postures as more start to join in.

The man to his side, tall and imposing with teeth glinting in the moon, grumbles with a smirk, "Hoshigaki Kisame."

Around the room they go, to the short and flamboyant Deidara, the off-shade-of-jubilant Tobi, the sharp-tongued Hidan, ragged and blunt Kakuzu, the authoritative Pein, and the what appeared to be the embodiment of grace itself, Konan.

Dorian's pale eyes scan over the room's inhabitance once more as they mutter each name under their breath, attempting to commit them to memory. (Once their eyes hit the masked one, a very bad feeling overtakes them. Someone hiding that much of himself couldn't be good. And he stares right back at them with just as much speculation.)

"Well, we have two couches, an air mattress that can probably fit two, maybe three people, a reclining chair, several blankets, and Hisoka and I's beds." They list. "Him and I can just share a bed, which should leave enough space for everyone."

Scanning over their audience's reaction, Dorian puts their hand to their chin as they mull over what else to talk about.

"I know everyone's probably mind-numbingly tired by now, and I personally don't want to think about this at the moment either, but we're going to eventually have to work out exactly how to hide all of you from our landlord and neighbours. I don't think the Big Guy's gonna be happy with us if he find out we're housing 8 other people without paying."

"I'd be willing to discuss that with you later." The leader, Pein, notes. "Would you desire any assistance in setting up the sleeping areas?"

"Yes, thank you, that would be helpful." Dorian answers with a polite smile, thankful that this man was decent enough to lend a hand (or force someone else to, as it would seem). Pein motions for two other men, Tobi and Deidara, to accompany them and Hisoka. Both pairs eye each other for a moment before Dorian begins to walk down a hallway and motions for everyone to follow.

"It shouldn't be too much trouble. Most of the work's just going to be digging the mattress out from the refuge and lugging back Hisoka's 25 lbs of blankets." Dorian awkwardly jokes in an attempt to break the ice, flashing a charismatic smile.

"Oh, come on, 25 lbs is a complete exaggeration." defends Hisoka softly, voice wavering as he's still not entirely used to the sound of it against the judgemental silence.

Once more, it takes a moment for anyone to respond.

"We don't know what 'pounds' are, yeah." Deidara mumbles as he trudges along.

"Aren't those like kilograms but stupid?" Tobi asks, earning a weak smile from the roommates.

"Yeah, that sums it up." Dorian comments while simultaneously observing the way the two reacted and behaved.

Everything falls into silence once again as they near a storage closet. Until Tobi pipes up with a shoulder-wiggle and what Dorian could only guess was an eyebrow-waggle, "So, how long have you two knoooown each other?"

Although the masked-man's question was innocent enough, Dorian didn't want to take any chances with disclosing any sort of personal information. So, when Hisoka's about to answer, Dorian instead takes charge and incredulously states, "Around two and a half years. What about you and… Deidara over there?"

Deidara thinks that his name sounds name sounds strange on Dorian's tongue, but nonetheless, he responds, "For, like, 2 months now. And it's been terrible, yeah. You may think he's funny now, but just wait."

Both roommates found Deidara's complaints rather humorous, and Tobi's stammering only served to make the situation more comical.

"Well maybe you should listen to yourself!" He declares, pointing an accusatory finger and Deidara. "Listen, all he talks about is art this, and Sasori no dana was so much cooler that!"

Whoever Sasori is, the mention of his name brings a strange expression to Deidara's face. But he quickly covers it up by looking to the side with a huff. Instantly the lighter mood that was building drops back to awkward tension.

Realizing that any form of socialization right now with everyone being on edge probably wasn't the best idea, Dorian and Hisoka both decide it's best not to stir the pot anymore, as well as the fact that Dorian still felt terribly uncomfortable in their guests' presence; unsure how to properly appease them as well as how much personal information was safe to share. Too much effort for tonight.

Thus, for the next 30 minutes, the only words exchanged are requests or orders as the parlor is turned into what Hisoka thinks looks like a giant pillow-fort. By the time everything and everyone is settled, the clock reads 1:45 am, and Hisoka feels as though it's been a life time since he last slept. So, he decides to take a vacant sleeping-place and get some rest for what was bound to be a chaotic morning, silently hoping Dorian would come to join him soon, and noting with distaste the pack of cigarettes in their hand as they head out to the balcony…

* * *

The adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and their persona of friendliness discarded, Dorian sheds their suit-jacket on the back of a folding chair and plops down, leaning back with their feet propped on the small table before them. Ignoring the coolness of the autumnal air, they light a cigarette and bring it to their lips. Visible stars were far and far between in the sky above, shining in competition with the city's lights below. They inhale their first lungful of smoke with the nagging feeling like they were forgetting something.

Turning their gaze to the sound of the sliding glass door opening, Dorian eyes Pein as he steps outside and sits down beside them. Reaching into their pocket, they hand the box out towards him.

"Want a light?"

It takes a moment for Pein to piece together the meaning behind that phrase.

"No. Thank you for offering."

"...Guess you want to get to business now?"

"Best to address it now than later."

Dorian sighs out a languid stream of smoke before adjusting their position to face him.

Oh, that's right. They think with a sense of bitter irony, momentarily glaring at the pack of cigs in their hand.

Today marked my first year of being clean.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Dorian's really gay for Konan and I honestly don't know anyone sane who isn't._


End file.
